As We Grow, We Change
by SuperNatasha
Summary: Kyle moves to New York and everyones life flips. Stan realizes his feelings; Kenny sets on his way; and Cartman... still doesn't change. Following the boys from elementary school to college. Cameos by others. R for violence, profanity, sex, rape, murder.
1. Elementary School

"So, the sneaky Jew is finally off on his way." Cartman snickered. He was, of course, delighted that Kyle was leaving. The others, not so much. Everyone was gathered around in a circle outside South Park Elementary for Kyle's last day of class.

"We're all going to miss you so very much, Kyle. I mean, it's not going to be any fun hanging out with the fellers if you're not there." Butters was saying, fidgeting and scuffing his feet against the concrete.

Kenny took his hood off, blonde hair falling into his eyes. "Yeah, man, it was fucking awesome being your friend."

"And I wish we'd been better friends." Bebe added.

Stan wasn't talking at all. He just gave Kyle a hug, resting his head on his best friend's shoulder. Both boys inhaled, remembering being best of friends since before they could even actually recall.

"Gaaay!" Cartman called.

Kenny punched him in the shoulder, "Shut up, fatass. It's called bromance, and maybe if you weren't such a dick all the time, you'd have some real friends to hug, too."

"You poor piece of shit, I don't need friends like you." Cartman huffed, clutching his shoulder with an arm.

Everyone else focused their attention back on Kyle. The redhead was looking down, his eyes filled with tears. "You guys have been the best ever. But my dad has to accept the job offer in New York. Maybe after middle school, I can convince him to let me move back!" Kyle looked up with renewed hope.

"Yeah, man, maybe." Kenny agreed.

"You should stay in touch with us, bro." Token added. "Like, get our cell phone numbers and stuff, okay?"

"We're not all rich niggers like you, you black asshole!" Cartman yelled.

This time it was Token who punched Cartman, in the face.

"What? I… screw you guys! I'm going home." Cartman yelled, running off with tears in his eyes.

"Well, I gotta get going home soon. We're leaving at 5 in the morning, so I'm supposed to get all my sleep." Kyle looked at Stan once more, hoping he would say something, but the other boy was still silent.

The boys did goodbyes once more and Kyle headed home. 

* * *

><p>Kyle started awake and realized someone was banging on his window. Terrified, he looked around for a weapon, but everything in his room had already been packed away. He finally plucked up the courage to approach the closed window.<p>

It was Stan.

Stan, glancing in the other way, thought Kyle looked like a ghost, his pale skin, wide frightened eyes, Jewfro sticking up every which way.

"Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack," Kyle muttered, opening the window to let him in. Cool air rushed in along with him.

"Yeah? Sorry. It's just that I didn't really get to say bye to you earlier today. Everyone was there and Cartman was just ruining the moment like he always does."

"It's okay. At least you're here now." Kyle kept his voice calm but felt ecstatic. He's been brooding and dejected the entire evening by how Stan had hardly expressed any sadness.

"So. How's Ike taking it?"

"He's really happy. He said he didn't like this school and he's bullied by all these kid-"

Stan leaned forward and kissed Kyle. Kyle's eyes widened but then he relaxed. Stan, not sure what to do with his hands, ran one through Kyle's curly red hair. It was a clumsy kiss; hasty and immature. They were just kids.

When they pulled apart, Stan said, "Listen, Kyle. I've been meaning to tell you for a while now. I don't think I like Wendy too much anymore. I mean, it started out okay but then I started spending more time with her and I think I just really don't like girls like that."

"So, you're gay? Like Mr. Garrison and Mr. Slave?"

Stan cocked his head and said "But no, man. They're just into some really weird shit."

"Sex? That's what being gay is, Stan. Gay guys have sex with each other." Kyle explained.

"What? Ew, dude! I didn't know that. I don't want to have sex with guys, I just don't like girls."

"Oh," Kyle said. Just that one syllable.

"Are you gay?" Stan asked, suddenly afraid he'd offended his friend.

"No! I don't know! I think we're both just confused right now. We're only in 4th grade, Stan. You didn't have to kiss me or anything. You're just sad I'm leaving."

"So you didn't like it?" Stan asked, eyes narrowing.

"No! It's not like that! I liked it a lot, but… Stan, don't break up with Wendy. I'm leaving South Park." Kyle tried to put his frustration into words but he wasn't sure which one's would be right at a time like this. He knew what it would be like to live in this town and be anything other then heterosexual. He could only imagine the stuff Cartman would come up with to make fun of Stan. Kyle almost couldn't stand it.

"But I'll wait for you!" Stan exclaimed.

"And I'm not sure at all if I'll be coming back or not. You're my best friend. Can we just stay friends, please?" Kyle glanced at Stan with huge eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. Of course." Stan said. He put his hat back on and returned to the window. "I'm sorry if that was weird or something. I wanted to try it though. And not in front of the other guys. Bye."

"I'm going to miss you a lot, Stan. And sometimes I think I'm in love with you but I don't know how you would react if I told you. But I'd better say so now, before I miss the chance, right?" Kyle turned and stared at his empty room, the open window. Stan was gone.


	2. 6th Grade

The entire first month of sixth grade was insane. Middle school was confusing for everyone.

Kyle could hardly understand why everyone talked so fast or the shit food in the cafeteria or the guys in the halls asking him if he wanted "bud". He missed his friends and everyone in this new place was in their own clique. He tried to keep his head down and do his work. He talked to Stan on the phone a lot.

Stan seemed to be doing fine. He happened to be in the same class as all the other guys and was still dating Wendy. But more, he'd been standing up to his friends in the evenings, knowing the only time Kyle's mom let on the phone was from 6 to 8.

Finally, on Christmas, their parents decided to let the boys have phones with texting plans. From that moment on, Kyle and Stan were constantly sharing details of their life with each other.

In school, both learned to hide their phones under the desk and text single-handedly. They talked about everything, from classes to people to movies. They were still best friends, no matter what anyone said. They woke up to each other's messages and fell asleep with their phones still clutched between their fingers. Every time they got the chance, they called each other and whispered under the covers.

It was, Cartman claimed, the faggiest thing in the world (and he didn't even know half the extent of the communication). Stan didn't care what Cartman said. But someone else did.

Walking home from school one day, Kenny said to Stan, "You texting Kyle?"

"Huh, what?" Stan looked up from his screen and answered, "Yeah, yeah, I am. He's joining the debate team. Can you believe it? He's going to destroy everyone."

"That's cool." There was a moment of silence between them, interrupted by Stan's fingers moving deftly over the digits. "Hey, you know that's bad for you right? I mean, it gives you carpal tunnel and arthritis and bad eyesight..." Kenny trailed off.

"Oh? Yeah, we discussed the matter. Don't worry, we talk at night."

"Stan."

"What?"

"STAN!"

Stan looked up. He put the phone in his pocket and said, "What is it, man?"

"You like him, don't you?"

"Of course! He's my best friend." Stan looked at Kenny like the blond had gone crazy.

"That's not what I mean." Kenny said. They had reached the busstop intersection from where Kenny went to his part of town and Stan to his. Neither boy moved. Ken stared at Stan, looked straight into his eyes. Those blue orbs burned into Stan until he blinked and looked away. "And I think you know what I _do_ mean. Tell me, when was the last time you spent as much time with Wendy as you do on your phone with Kyle?"

"That's not the same, dude! I can hang out with Wendy anytime I want!"

"But do you?" Kenny retorted. Stan didn't reply. "Do you guys even know? I'm sure Kyle, in all his infinite Yoda wisdom bullshit, has got it figured out. But do you? Are you both in denial?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stan murmured softly.

"C'mon. If I have to spell it out for you, I think you're both fucked. And not in the good way." Kenny turned to his street and began to leave.

"Kenny?" Stan spoke quietly, but Kenny still heard. "How do you know? How are you so sure?"

Kenny shrugged, "You're not the only ones in South Park, you know."

Stan wasn't sure what he meant. He stood there until Kenny was gone, long gone. He waited to understand until the sun began to set and the wind got cold. He leaned against the busstop and didn't reply to Kyle's texts. He stood there and thought about how Kenny always seemed to know everything, since they were all just children.

Stan finally understood when the 7 o clock bus pulled up to the stop and Craig got out.

"Hey, Stan." Craig greeted him.

"Hey, Craig." Stan said absentmindedly.

"You going to see Kenny too?" Craig asked.

"Wait, what?"

"Oh. Nothing, forget it."

And Stan understood.


	3. 7th Grade

It'd been a while that Kenny and Craig had been hanging out after school. Craig was possibly the only kid with the balls to say and do exactly what he wanted. He didn't even mind the fact that Kenny lived in the slummy part of town and his house was practically a dump. He didn't mind the McCormicks constantly yelling at each other. He simply didn't mind.

Kenny was too afraid to make a move. He really enjoyed Craig's company and was terrified the other boy would stop hanging out with him if he so much as suspected Kenny's intentions.

Kenny wasn't naïve or stupid, though. He'd hooked up with Butters his first time, and Bebe was the first girl he'd banged. It didn't make a difference what gender he was with. They were equally lovable, both, and it was something Kenny had started ignoring a while ago. People were people, and that was it. Whether he fell for a guy or girl, he didn't care.

The boys usually hung out together playing video games, studying, or even talking generally. Kenny was shocked by the opinions Craig held. He knew Craig was often at the principal's office and now he knew why; Craig never gave up. He had a shitty relationship with his parents and sister, but just wanted to be a normal kid.

Kenny respected that. Hooking up with another dude would never fly as "normal" with Craig. So Kenny kept his distance, though he'd sometimes feel that patience slipping terribly.

"You free after school?" Kenny asked Craig in the middle of PE one day. He purposefully avoided Craig's eyes, waiting for him to pass the basketball.

"Yeah, of course. You wanna hang out at yours?" Craig bounced the ball a few times and passed it over to Kenny, his long libs catching the ball mid-bounce and taking a perfect shot.

"Actually, could you meet me behind the garage? I got something to show you."

Craig shrugged, "Yeah, sure." They both quietly watched the ball roll down the bleachers

The coach yelled from the other side of the gym, "You boys better be playing!"

Craig flipped the coach off.

"Goddamit, man." Kenny muttered, watching as the coach angrily bounded forward, holding a detention slip in his hand.

Kenny waited until Craig got out of detention in the front of the school. "Hey, man, you really gotta pull your shit together. You know you're going to get in big trouble someday if you keep this up." He joked playfully as the boys headed toward the abandoned garage on the other side of town.

"Who cares?" Craig's voice remained emotionless.

"Maybe I do?"

"Yeah? Well, that's nice, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm an ass who can't get anything right." Kenny hadn't seen Craig so negative before.

"Aw, dude, don't be like that. You're gonna love my surprise."

They continued down the road until the garage came into view. They ducked around the back and Kenny looked around quickly to make sure nobody was watching.

He went to an overturned aluminum coffee can and pulled out a handgun. Craig's jaw dropped as Kenny showed it to him. "It's a .45 and I got it from a guy in my neighborhood. Sold it to me for a can of peaches. You believe that shit?"

"Holy fuck, dude, is it real?" Craig asked, taking it from the blonde's hand.

"Yeah. Its even loaded." Kenny told him proudly.

"Can I shoot it? Kenny, please, let me shoot it." Craig looked at him. Again, those blue eyes nearly destroyed Kenny's façade of calm friendship. Everything suddenly became hyperactive to him. The blue fibers in Craig's cap, the chill in the air, the gray heavy gun in his friend's fingers.

"Yeah, sure. You need to slip off the safety." Kenny instructed, his voice wavering the tiniest bit. He guided Craig's fingers to the safety and demonstrated how. Their cold fingers awkwardly worked in the space of one. Kenny pulled away abruptly. "Keep one elbow bent or you're gonna hit yourself in the face from the recoil." He added, finding an old paint bucket to sit on.

Craig failed to notice Kenny's discomfort or his tightened sweatpants in his eagerness to fire the gun. He aimed carefully for a tree behind the garage in the overgrowth. He took a deep breath, grinned involuntarily, and pulled the trigger.

It took more strength then he'd expected and the recoil, though not strong, caught him off guard. He dropped the gun, stumbled back a step, landed his foot on a beer bottle, and fell back hard onto Kenny.

"Oof- what the fuck?" Kenny yelled instinctually as 110 pounds of Craig landed hard on his skinny 90 pound body.

"Hey, I'm sorry! Dude-I'm, uh-" Craig stuttered, rolling over onto his side. Kenny caught him mid-roll.

"It's okay, Craig. I don't mind." He soothed, as he would a startled animal.

"Don't mind me falling?" Craig asked. In that moment, he became aware of exactly how little distance remained between him and Kenny. His messy blonde hair fell over his brilliant dilated blue eyes, his breath short.

Almost without realizing it, Kenny had gently placed his lips on Craig. Craig didn't react. Taking that as encouragement, Kenny pushed forward, scooting closer without taking his lips away. Craig tasted exactly like Kenny would've hoped for, and even better. He smelled like musk and the dirt and gunpowder. He gingerly took Craig's lower lip between his own and sucked lightly.

Finally, Craig responded. He kissed back. There was a stirring between the two, an almost tangible instant rise in temperature. In synchronization, the boys moved closer until Kenny was on top of the heavier boy.

"Craig, I'm sorry. I've wanted this forever." Kenny said with a heavy sigh, kissing Craig's neck. Craig let out the softest moan as Kenny unzipped his jacket and maneuvered it off him. The cold air hit Craig like a bucket of ice water. He shivered in his thin black cotton shirt. But then Kenny was unbuttoning his jeans and pulling those lower off him too.

Despite the cold, Kenny freed a rock hard erection from Craig. Craig began to sit up as an automatic reaction to the cold but suddenly, his dick was licked from shaft to balls. He moaned louder and lay back. Kenny took Craig into his mouth, sucking and moving his mouth forward. Kenny's rough warm tongue caressed his muscle.

The heat and wetness made Craig's breath even faster. From his vantage point, all he could see was the blonde boy's head bobbing up and down. Then he glanced up, his lustful blue eyes through long lashes, and Craig lost it. Kenny swallowed every last drop of cum and sat back on his haunches, on Craig's knees. He was smiling something crooked, like the cat whose finally caught the goddamn mouse and its game over and-

Craig was hurtling forward suddenly and kissing Kenny, ignoring his jeans open around his thighs, ignoring the rough ground, ignoring the gun grinding into Kenny's back. He just wanted to taste Kenny, to kiss him and pleasure him in the same way.

"I haven't done this before. I don't know what to do." Craig admitted, the words escaping his mouth with his breath, hanging there condensed with the air.

"It's okay, I'll show you." Kenny purred, seductive now. Kenny took Craigs hands and laid them over his crotch. Kenny took off his sweatpants and pulled down his boxers. "Here," Kenny murmured, wrapping Craig's hand around his own hard member. He began to pump his hand up and down, Craig taking over the motion. Kenny leaned forward to kiss the boy, pulling off his cap to reveal the others dark hair.

"Oh, God Craig!" Kenny hissed between clenched teeth. He could hardly hold on any longer and came with a soft groan.

The boys looked at each other and started laughing.

"That wasn't bad, you know." Craig hedged, unsure if Kenny was the type who fucked and moved on.

"Nope, not bad at all." Kenny pulled his boxers and pants back on, still sticky with jizz.

* * *

><p>They met up pretty often. Though both wouldn't have minded something more, they kept it at just sex. Craig didn't want to invade Kenny's personal space, and he knew the blonde had a reputation for being loose with his promiscuity. Kenny was convinced Craig wouldn't want people to know they were together.<p>

It was a dilemma.

It went on for several months. Kenny didn't let anyone get wind of the relationship he shared with Craig, though sometimes he was tempted to tell Stan. He didn't though, wanting to at least ask Craig if the other boy was okay with going public.

At the theater, Craig abruptly turned to Kenny and asked, "Why do you hang out with Stan and Cartman?"

"They've been my friends since we were kids. They're cool, man."

"Okay, well. Stan's cool, but why the fatass?" Craig continued.

"I don't know. He's there. And he doesn't have anyone else, you know? I think he just needs someone." Kenny paused, wondering now why he did hang out with Cartman. It wasn't that Cartman was nice to him; it was more a force of habit.

"He needs someone? So you're there for Cartman's _needs_?"

"Well, yeah." Kenny completely missed the jealously and double entendre in Craig's voice.

"You should stop, then. All the time you spend with him could be spent with me." Craig implored.

"But he's my friend too. I'm not going to leave my old buddies, Craig."

"Not even for me?"

"Sshh! Trying to watch a movie here!" Someone behind them called.

Kenny frowned. It was one thing to really like someone and go along with them; it was another thing when that someone tried to control every aspect of his life. "Dude, that's weak. I like my friends; I like you. Just keep it cool."

"You fucking him too?" Craig sneered.

"What!" Kenny was shocked Craig would even think that. He hadn't been with anyone since Craig for a while. Doubts and insecurities crept into him. If Craig thought Kenny was having sex with others, was Craig doing the same?

"I mean it. Just tell me now." Craig went on.

"No, man, I'm not! Why the fuck would you even ask me that?" he demanded.

"Everyone knows what you're like Kenny, don't be so surprised. You'd fuck anyone and everyone given the chance."

"Shut up!" Someone else behind them cried.

"Hey, man! Fuck you!" Craig flipped the guy off.

Kenny rose and walked out of the theater, hurt and distraught by the knowledge Craig had thrown onto him. He blinked in the sudden daylight after the dim theater, wandering farther from the street.

He finally came to and realized he was at a parking lot behind Denny's, closed for the day. There was a lonely Goth kid hanging out, smoking leisurely on the steps.

"Hey, man, you look like someone tore your heart out, pumped it full of vile poison pain, and stitched it back into your chest. You okay?" He asked, flipping his red dyed hair.

Kenny glanced at him, at the thick eyeliner, the purple skinny jeans, his expression irritated. "You want a blowjob?"

"What? Dude, you high?"

"I'm serious. And not intoxicated at all."

"Why? What do you want from me?" The Goth returned his cigarette to his lips, regarding Kenny with caution.

"Nothing. I'm just the school slut. And I want to suck your cock."


	4. 8th Grade

"C'mon, Stan, it's just one fucking drink." Kenny slurred.

"He's a pussy, he's not gonna do it." Cartman muttered, equally shit-faced and even more out of it than usual. His mom was PMS'ing something major and forcing him to go on a diet. Cartman, in return, had realized he could get an equal number of carbs and sugars from beer. And who better to provide the free booze but Kenny? Cartman had waved some money in front of his face, and Kenny had managed to get his hands on his parents' sixpacks for the promise of 50 dollars.

"I can do it and I'm _not_ a pussy, but someone should be the responsible person in this group. What if the cops find us, dickhead?" Stan replied.

"They never come to Starks Pond. And besides, officer Barbrady's not gonna do shit." Kenny muttered, taking another swig of Pabst.

Stan rolled his eyes and wandered farther away from them. Wendy had been getting on his nerves way too much lately; she insisted Stan ask her to the Middle School Easter Dance "properly, like a gentlemen should." Stan had given her a rose and Wendy said it wasn't romantic enough. He wanted to punch her in the face.

Instead, he'd agreed to come out to Starks Pond with Kenny and Cartman, a decision he was now regretting. Stan pulled out his phone and texted Kyle:

Stan: _**Hey dude. Bored out of my mind. You?**_

Kyle: _**Stan! Nothing, I'm just studying. I have to turn in this application for a really expensive prep high school.**_

Stan: _**What the fuck? Thought you were coming to SP for high school?**_

Kyle: _**Can't afford it. I can get a scholarship here for high school and that'll get me into Ivy League.**_

Stan: _**Fuck Ivy League. Thought you were coming here.**_

Kyle: _**I know. But I don't think I can.**_

Stan: _**Are you avoiding me?**_

Kyle: _**I'm in NY. How can I be avoiding you?**_

Stan: _**I don't know! I can get Uncle Jimbo's apartment if you need a place to stay.**_

Kyle: _**Stan… I don't think you understand here. It's harder than that.**_

_****_Stan: _**Do you want to stay away from SP because I'm here?**_

Kyle: _**That's the only reason I want to come back.**_

Stan: _**Have you come out to your parents yet?**_

Kyle: _**No. We decided to do that together, Stan.**_

Stan: _**I know. I just think you're always so confident about what you want that you'll do it without me.**_

Kyle: _**You're my best friend. I wouldn't do that to you.**_

Stan: _**Why do you still use that stupid line about us bein friends? You know we're so much more than that.**_ _**We've known it since we were both in 3**__**rd**__** fuckin grade. Since I kissed you.**_

Kyle: _**We agreed to talk about this when I saw you again back in 6**__**th**__** grade. We're still in 8**__**th**__** grade and I haven't seen you yet. That's not fair, Stan, you can't just change our deal.**_

Stan_**: Fuck you.**_

Sitting in front of his computer in New York, Kyle took off his hat, the only thing he still wasn't capable of changing after having moved, and gently massaged his head. This was what it was like talking to Stan every single time. It was always the same argument, and it ended with Stan being mad as hell and then making up eventually a few days later.

But Stan was wrong. He thought Kyle was the confident one in this scenario, that Kyle was so sure he was gay, but it was just the opposite. Stan had been the one who was always sure he liked guys, even when he was too young to understand the sex and attraction. He brought the topic up and he swore he would wait. He embraced it. On the outside, Stan continued to date Wendy, but on the inside, Stan knew for sure.

Kyle didn't know what was going on. He'd always thought he loved Stan, but more and more recently he was beginning to have his doubts. His mom was always going on about how someday Kyle was going to have the most perfect Jewish family and she pushed him always to get out of the house and hang out with girls. Could he really look her in the eyes and tell her he wasn't into girls?

Kyle glanced at his essay, about his greatest accomplishments and challenges. He wrote of his insecurity about fitting in, his brother Ike, about handling his fathers expectations, of moving from his friends, of his life. Finally, he texted Stan back.

Kyle: _**What if you could come to New York? For high school?**_

Stan: _**Could we live together? I have some money saved up, but it's definitely not enough to be on my own all through high school.**_

Kyle: _**Not at my place. You know how my parents are. I can't even have sleepovers, my mom wouldn't let you live permanently. Overprotective Jewish moms are like bears. LOL.**_

Stan: _**No, I can't come to NY then. Not sure I want to.**_

Kyle: _**Stop it, Stan, I've been saving up for a while and I think I can get a job soon. Stop being so negative.**_

Stan: _**I've been waiting for you for a while and you're making jokes. **_

Kyle: _**I'm sorry. I miss you, I just wish I could talk to you for a while and not fight about it.**_

Stan turned off his phone in anger and started heading back to the noises of Cartman and Kenny. They both had their pants down and were pissing in the lake.

"Hey, Keeeneeeh, look how far I can go. That rock right there!"

"I can hit the pole, fatass."

"Fuck you, I can hit the pole!" Cartman insisted, swinging his dick out toward the pole. Piss flew everywhere. As Stan walked past him, Cartman said, "Hey, hey Stan! Look at me!"

"Fuck off, Cartman!"

"No, you fuck off, Stan!"

"Nobody fuckin likes you, everyone thinks you're a lonely loser asshole who's too fat and ugly and wants to fuck his mom! We only hang out with you because we pity you and you sometimes give us money." Stan screamed, his face turning red with rage. His anger with Kyle had reached an all time high and all he could think of was taking it out on the person everyone hated.

Kenny slowly zipped up his pants and reached for another beer, backing away from the tension.

"Oh, yeah? Well, let me tell you something! Everyone hates you because you're a moping whiny bitch, and Wendy's gonna break up with you for Clyde! And I know this because Wendy told Bebe who told Brad who told Butters AND BUTTERS IS _MY_ FUCKIN FRIEND!"

Cartman stood there, dick in hand.

Kenny stood there, beer in hand.

Stan stood there, phone in hand. Then he walked away.

* * *

><p>"Is it true, Kenny?"<p>

"What?" Kenny asked. He was sprawled out on Cartman's bed, playing his PSP. The alcohol had pretty much worn off and both had an impending headache from their first middle school drunk experience.

Cartman turned away from the mirror and said "Am I a fat, ugly loser who everyone hates?"

"Who gives a shit? You definitely shouldn't. C'mon, it was obvious Stan was pissed about something, and he's a good guy so he must've been under pressure. People under pressure lie. They do stupid things." Kenny answered, not too concerned.

"Keeneeh! I care! Why doesn't anyone hang out with me?" Cartman demanded.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Kenny asked, looking up with an expression of mild hurt.

"Yeah, but you hardly count. You're poor as shit." Cartman dismissed him.

"… what the fuck, dude? Because I'm poor I don't have feelings? Or because I'm poor, you pretend I don't count?" Kenny asked, sitting up.

"No, but you're not a real friend right? You just need someone to hang out with because you're so poor nobody else likes you. And I'm awesome and tolerant, so you're here for my attention. Right?"

"You fat fuck. You're serious, aren't you?"

"What's your problem, Kenny?" Cartman asked.

"You know what, Eric Cartman? I was friends with Craig and he always talked shit about you and I walked out on him because I didn't like that he made fun of you. I blew off Craig for you and you're nothing but a douchebag." Kenny grabbed his PSP and stomped out of Cartman's room.

"Wait, wait!" Cartman pleaded wildly.

"What do you want?" Kenny snarled, whirling around.

"Don't you want to get paid for the beer?" Cartman asked, slowly pulling out his wallet.

Kenny stared at him for a minute before grabbing Cartman's wallet, throwing it down the hall and yelling "Suck on that, asshole!"

As he marched down the steps, he spotted Cartman's mom staring at him. "Oh, dear, is everything alright?" She asked hesitantly.

"No, Ms. Cartman. I'm sorry for your son. He just lost his last friend."


	5. 9th Grade

"Students, please be sure you picked up a brochure on your way inside the gymnasium!" The principal of Park High School said into the mike. Half the students were sprawled on the bleachers, the other half catching up with their friends after their summer break.

"And that's it? You texted Kyle this vacation and helped out at the animal shelter?" Kenny asked Stan, the two on the top row of the bleacher, their feet up on the row ahead of them.

"Pretty much. South Park sucks, man, you know that better than anyone. That's why you skipped out of town the last two months. Anyway, what _were_ you doing? Look at you, you're so damn brown." Stan whipped Kenny's hood off his head, revealing his blonde hair bleached even lighter. "What the fuck did you do to your hair?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. I just spent a long time in the sun this summer." Kenny shrugged Stan's hand off and pulled his hood back on.

"Yeah, doing what?"

"It doesn't matter right now. We need to talk about this more importantly. Remember when you were diagnosed as being a cynic or whatever back in 4th grade? You don't want to relapse, do you? You need social interaction." Kenny preached.

"Don't be such a fucktard, I just told you I've been talking to Kyle."

"I meant human face-to-face interaction."

"Kyle is human. And we do talk face-to-face. You ever hear of a thing called Skype?"

"Dude, it's not the same. You need to get out there more."

"What's the difference? As soon as I can, I'm ditching this hellhole to live with Stan."

"Live with Stan?" Kenny scoffed. "With his Mama Bear and little Ike?"

"No, man, I don't know yet. You know Stan got a scholarship for high school?"

"I didn't know such a thing even existed. I mean, it's supposed to be free, right? It's free for us."

"He's in some fancy prep school. But they gave him a job on school campus, at their bookstore-café thing. So he's got some good money stuff going on. We think in a year or two, he'll have enough for an apartment and we can move in together." Stan sounded proud, a smile spreading across his face as he spoke of Kyle.

Kenny observed him for a while, considered interrupting that goofy smile, and eventually decided against it. At least let someone in this godforsaken town be happy. He instead looked around the auditorium, his eyes seeking out that blue jacket and black hair he had grown familiar to avoid in the past year.

"Hey, fellers! How ya doin'?" Butters voice cut into both boys thoughts.

"Hey, Butters. What's up, my man?" Kenny greeted him heartily.

"Uh, nothing. You guy's seen Eric?"

"Cartman? Why are you looking for him?" Kenny tried to give Stan a discreet look; Stan was texting on his phone though. "Stan!" Kenny loudly brought Stan into the conversation.

"Oh, what? Sorry, I was just telling Kyle to keep an eye on New York real estate."

"Well, I'm looking for Eric." Butters repeated.

"WHY?" Kenny and Stan asked simultaneously.

"He's my best friend, ain't he? And, uh, I got a right to know where my best friend is."

"Why don't you just text him?" Stan asked.

"I would, but he was over my place last week and accidentally broke it." Butters looked down, his expression sad, that ridiculous hair cut he had falling over his face.

This time Stan turned to look at Kenny. Both boys had been with Cartman for a long time; they knew about his mean streak. "Seriously, Butters, you shouldn't hang out with Cartman so much. He's not really a good kid, you know?" Kenny started slowly, but Butters immediately snapped.

"He's my friend! If the two of you can't respect that and are gonna keep hollering like my parents do, I'm not gonna talk to you!" Butters crossed his arms and turned away. It was like the boy hadn't changed at all since elementary school. He still had that juvenile innocence. Kenny felt his childhood pities for the boy returning.

"We need to stage an intervention. Like we did with that schizo hobo who thought he was a towel. Remember?" Kenny whispered to Stan.

Stan nodded and said, "Butters, we're sorry. Just hang out with us for a while, okay? Or at least until you see Cartman again. From our vantage point, you can see everything in the gym." He patted the empty spot next to him on the bleacher.

"You fellers ain't gonna be mean about my friend, are you?"

"Nope, word of honor." Stan promised.

So Butters gingerly sat down. He glanced at Stan's phone, buzzing and lighting up with (undoubtedly) a text from Kyle. Then he started talking, "You won't believe how much fun it is finally having a best friend. I've always wanted one, you know. We do all sorts of stuff together." He said happily.

"Yeah? You spent all of your summer with him?" Kenny inquired.

"Pretty much! What'd you do?"

"Volunteering." Stan absent-mindedly told him.

"Like a low-life." Kenny added.

"What?" Stan looked up. "Dude, that's not cool. It's a good thing to do. Besides, some of those animals really needed my help."

"Newsflash, bro! You need a little bit of help, too!"

"At least I did something instead of sitting out in the sun like a lazy hobo and getting progressively darker- or lighter!" Stan whipped Kenny's hood off again.

"I was actually working my fucking ass off in the sun, thank you very much dickhead!" Kenny exploded, pulling his hood swiftly up again, defensively tightening it with the strings.

"Working?" Stan asked, taken aback.

With Butters nervously watching the boys, Kenny explained in quiet tenors, "Yeah, well, Kevin knows someone in Mexico. We went to work in his fields this summer and he gave us some free plants. Um, marijuana plants."

"Dude. This right here is pretty fucked up. Your brother made you slave in Mexico for drugs?" Stan demanded. "I mean, surely even you see why this is a problem."

"It's not that bad. We kinda have a deal with the Mexican dude. He gets 30% off the profits Kevin gets from selling the weed around these parts." Kenny shrugged.

"I see Cartman!" Butters unexpectedly and swiftly rose, hightailing off the bleachers, taking the steps two at a time.

"You see the fatass?" Stan asked the blonde, momentarily distracted.

"Nope." Kenny and Stan's eyes followed Butters as he pushed open the double doors and left the gym, Cartman still not in sight. "So. Apparently, Talk of drugs makes him uncomfortable. And yet this kid spent his entire summer with Cartman? What the fuck?"

"Don't ask me." Stan replied.

* * *

><p>The boys did see Cartman later, in the only class all high school freshmen shared: PE. He was sitting with Wendy. And from their distance, it actually looked like he was flirting with her. Butters, of course the shadow, sat behind him, casually twiddling his thumbs and looking perpetually uncomfortable.<p>

"Stan? Is that your ex-girlfriend with my ex-best friend?" Kenny implored, squinting his eyes from across the gym where the boys were sitting in the same place as that morning.

"Yeah, I think so." Stan was studying them too, an eyebrow raised into the red border of his cap. "Is he wearing a_ football jersey_?" He asked, even more incredulous then Kenny's previous tone. "How the fuck did he make it on the team? They wouldn't have taken him in anything other than the defensive line."

They both watched with eager interest as Wendy crumpled up the piece of paper Cartman had handed her, threw it in his face, and walked off. A moment later, Bebe rose as well, in a short JV cheerleading outfit, and followed Wendy to the girl's locker room.

"Yup, she's still got it." Stan said, seeming a bit satisfied in spite of himself as the dark-haired student body president disappeared from view.

"Those tits? And that ass?" Kenny asked, in turn studying Bebe as she swung her indeed ample ass into the locker room. The door closed shut behind them and Kenny found Stan staring at him.

"Dude, get your mind out of the gutter."

"It's not there anymore. It's in the lockers now. Imagining Bebe. In the shower."

Stan hit Kenny in the shoulder, but both boys were laughing. For a moment, everything was good and right and Stan didn't care that the love of his life was thousands of miles away and Kenny didn't care that he was all alone in a world where his future was shit.

**_A/N: Hey, everyone! Hope you're enjoying the story so far! Please leave reviews!_**


	6. 10th grade

_**A/N: Trigger Warning: Rape and Death. If you're uncomfortable, please don't read.**_

Cartman had the house all to himself; his mom was gone on what she called "Mommy-time", but who was she kidding? Cartman was in 10th grade, if he couldn't figure out by now that his mom was a prostitute, she must think incredibly low of her son. He'd known since he was just a kid, and over time, he'd even learned to no longer give a fuck.

The only thing that was concerning him recently about the situation was that she was starting to get old. Who would hire an old whore? And- more significantly- how would she continue earning money for Cartman's spoiled lifestyle? Just last week she was bitching about the price of football materials Cartman demanded from her.

Cartman himself was actually surprised he'd stuck with this football thing for so long. Since they were kids, he'd expected Stan to go the athletic way, maybe even Kyle and his stupid obsession with basketball, or possibly Kenny since he was the tallest and skinniest (and poor people had the running gene). But the coach had told him quite seriously that he would make a good lineman if he lost some fat and gained muscle mass, and Cartman was actually doing his damndest best.

Now he was working out in the basement of his house, his equipment beside his old Antonio Banderas blow-up doll he'd had for as long as he could remember. Cartman's phone vibrated and he nearly dropped the weight. Working out without having Butters spot him was a bitch. He reached for the phone and rolled his eyes.

Fuckin Bebe. Cartman had only started hanging out with her freshmen year because he wanted into Wendy's pants and Bebe was her best friend. It hadn't worked. Wendy was a major prude and goody-two-shoe. If anything, Bebe wouldn't leave Cartman alone anymore. He wasn't sure why, but he was thought it had something to do with the fact that he was a JV football player and she was a JV cheerleader. And by the time he hit Varsity, so would she.

Bebe: _**Hey, Eric. Are you free?**_

Cartman: _**Yeah, sure. What's up?**_

Bebe:_** Well, I have some weed, if you're up for it..?**_

Cartman: _**Dude, always up for it! Can you come to mine? **_

Bebe:_** Okay! I have to walk, though, so I'll be a while.**_

Cartman: _**That's cool. See you!**_

Cartman grinned. It was awesome having someone who was willing to spend just as much money as his mom on him. Actually, now that he thought about it, Bebe was really a nice piece of ass. He was just more interested in Wendy than her. But still…

Deep in thought considering sex with Bebe, Cartman was surprised when his phone rang. Butters name and a picture of the blonde in his mom's lingerie popped up on screen. Cartman chuckled; the kid was always good for a laugh.

"Hey, Butters, what's up?"

"Eric! Do you want to hang out with me today at my house?" He asked, his voice (like always) stumbling over the precise wording.

"Sorry, Butters. I'm gonna have sex in a while and I wouldn't want you feeling like a third wheel- though you could probably learn some moves from me."

"Sex? With who?" Butters sounded extraordinarily astonished.

"Bebe. She said she's bringing weed. When girls say that, they want the dick."

"Oh, but you shouldn't do drugs, Eric! Don't you remember what Mr. Mackey used to say? Don't. Do._ Drugs!_ That's what I thought when Kenny told me, too." Butters rambled, uncomfortable again with the topic of intoxicants.

"Yeah, but Kenny's poor. Everyone knows poor people are crackheads." Cartman said mildly.

"Kenny doesn't just _do _it, though. He _sells_ it." Butters sounded sad for his friend.

Cartman's jaw dropped open. "That son of a bitch. No wonder he stopped being my friend. Selfish asshole!" He yelled into the phone.

Butters hung up suddenly, intimidated by the screaming and continued topic. He stared at the phone for a moment then wondered if he had made a mistake telling Cartman about Kenny's sideway money methods. He remembered a while ago, Kenny had kissed him in the school bathroom and given him his first ever orgasm with a blowjob. Butters pretended that had never happened, but he couldn't deny that he had liked it a lot.

On the other hand, Cartman was still fuming about Kenny and how he had lost the friend that could've provided him with weed. As a result, by the time he let Bebe in through the back door, he was impatient and edgy as he lead her down to the basement.

She had already rolled the weed into a joint and was lighting it up on the long red sofa Cartman used to play "The Coon" on as a kid. She took a drag and passed it over to Cartman.

Soon, both had lost themselves in the hazy aftermath of a kick-ass high. Bebe was giggling about some stupid story that had happened earlier at cheerleading practice and the sound was beginning to get on Cartman's nerves. Mostly to shut her up, Cartman said, "Hey Bebe, I'm horny."

"Oh? Anything I can help with?" She asked demurely and began giggling again. To Cartman, her intake was like a high pitched hyena barking.

He scratched his balls and slowly replied without thinking, "Well, since Wendy's not here, you'll have to do."

That shut Bebe's laughter right up. She looked up at him, his messy brown hair and red stretched jacket over the bulging muscles and fat, his lazy eyes studying her for a reaction. "What do you mean? I thought you liked me."

"Sure I do. I like Wendy more, but I like you too, Bebe. Very much. C'mon, gimme a blowjob."

"What? No." Bebe answered, frowning. She blinked several times, struggling to think clear and backed away from him on the sofa. "No. You don't even like me; you just like my best friend? Is that why you always hung out with me?"

"Everyone knows you're good at that stuff. How else would you become a cheerleader?" Cartman winked and began unzipping his jeans.

"No, wait. Stop, Eric." Bebe stood up too quickly and her head whirled, her sense of balance failing and the world turning upside down as she landed hard on her ass on the hardwood floor. She spoke a bit more firmly, "No, Eric!"

"Just do it. What do you mean, 'no'?" He mimicked her voice in a terrible high falsetto. He slid his jeans off and laid them on the arm of the sofa. He took her wrists and pulled, and guided her closer to his crotch.

She feebly pulled back, but Cartman was too strong for Bebe's drugged condition. "Stop. Stop it. I'm going home. You're an asshole, Eric. Let me go." Her voice trembled. She tried to get away in earnest this time, succeeding in freeing one hand and using it to push away.

"No, you stupid bitch." Eric grunted, gathering both of her wrists in one beefy hand and shoving her on the sofa. "Fine, I guess we'll just have sex if you're such a slut."

"I'm _not_ a slut. Stop it right now! You're scaring me!" Bebe cried as Cartman landed his bulk on her body, shoving his tongue down her throat. She bit his tongue, and as he drew back angrily, she yelled, "Get off me, you fat fuck!"

"I'm not fat!" Cartman yelled, now both angry, upset, and bursting with more power than he had experienced before.

Bebe's heart was racing, the drugs effect worn off as adrenaline took over. She beat her fists against Cartman, who wasn't phased in the least. He sat on her legs, gathered her hands in a single one of his own and pinned her down against the sofa hard. He slid one free hand up her skirt and began pulling her panties down.

"Stop! _HELP_! RAPE!" Bebe shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Basement's… soundproof… stupid… whore." Cartman growled and reacted with more fury. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook the girl violently. She bit her tongue and whimpered in pain as he slammed her into the arm of the couch repeatedly. "Now shut… the fuck… up." He whispered in her ear, warm breath fanning across her face as Bebe's eyes widened in fear.

He positioned his dick to her entrance and grinned with a cruel glint in his eye. He thrust in and Bebe shrieked with pain, clawing at Cartman's sweater. He didn't stop, instead thrust forward with more force. Tears welled up in her eyes as she screamed until her lungs ached and her throat was hoarse. Cartman brought a hand up, keeping up his pace, and squeezed Bebe's throat.

She was sure she was bleeding and her vision was going fuzzy, but Cartman continued to choke her. When he finally let go, she wheezed and, with a bit of remaining strength, spit at Cartman. Cartman slapped Bebe across the face, her neck jolting to the side and her body went briefly slack under him as she tried to catch her breath, eyes closed in defeat and humiliation.

Cartman tensed up a moment later and came inside her. Pulling out with deliberate slowness, he stared at the lithe girl lying wasted and bruised in her torn tight red shirt. Cartman rose off her legs in satisfaction. Blood flowed back into her legs in a painful rush. Opening her eyes, squinting under the seemingly bright light, Bebe leaned over the coach and vomited.

"Aw, you stupid bitch. Look what you've done now." Cartman glared at the mess in dismay. "I'm not cleaning that shit up, you unhygienic skank." He calmly zipped his jeans back up and backed away from her. "Now you listen here, okay? You tell anyone what happened in here and I'll kill you. And trust me, I _will_ kill you and nobody will ever find your little body again."

Bebe stood with painstaking slowness, swayed where she stood, and took a tottering step toward the entrance of the basement. Realizing she didn't have the energy to make it, she sank back on the sofa. "You're not going to get away with this." She told him, the words somehow sounding menacing despite her aching and raw vocal chords.

Cartman became infuriated again. He grabbed her arm and forced her to stand, yanking her already lolling neck back once more in the process. "I'm not getting caught and _you're not telling anyone!"_ He screeched and smacked her across the face with the back of his open hand.

Bebe fell back out of his grasp on the floor once more. Cartman paid her no heed, turning his back and instructing her, "Now put your shit on and get the fuck out of here. And if you tell anyone, I'll have absolutely no problem convincing them you're full of shit. Mostly because you are." He added. He turned to see her still lying there. Cartman casually nudged her with his foot, and then noticed.

When he hit her, she had fallen on his weights and apparently hit her head. There was a spreading pool of blood so bright that Cartman could nearly make out his expression in it. Her blonde hair was stained crimson and the viscous substance was managing to disperse with an alarming speed. It continued to move across the wood while Cartman stared. In panic, he leaned down and cleared the hair from Bebe's face, finding the wound near the left side of her brain. Cartman futilely pressed his hands up against the injury.

"Hey, get up. Get up! God_damn_ it, get up Bebe!" He yelled. He tried to pull her up but she kept slipping through his hands, now slick with her blood. Cartman took a few steps back in horror, appalled that he had a dead body lying on his floor.

The weight of the situation suddenly hit him, accompanying a wave of nausea. Cartman fought to keep from puking, as Bebe had earlier, and managed successfully. He went into overdrive mode, running to the closet and pulling out a large piece of tarp. He wrapped Bebe's body into the material with clumsy hasty moves, tying both ends with rope.

Cartman hoisted it up onto his shoulders, the package still dripping with blood and made his way to his car. He left a red handprint on every door in the house and a smattering trail of blood out to his truck. He shoved the body in, then himself, and drove fast.

Finally, Cartman stopped by the large ditch separating the Park County border with the next neighborhood over. He glanced around to make sure there weren't any watchers, then dumped Bebe's body over the brigde. He stayed only long enough to hear the _splash._

Now he started plotting. He needed to not get caught; he needed a scapegoat. Cartman quickly ran through the options in his head, inventorying every student in Park County High School in his head. His initial instinct would have been to frame Kyle, but considering the Jew no longer lived in town, he skipped over that option. He briefly thought about Butters but decided nobody would possibly believe the naïve little kid had done it.

He hit Jackpot: Kenny McCormick. Drug dealer. Piss poor. Had definitely hooked up with Bebe in the past. And they'd find the drugs in Bebe's system; Kenny could easily have been the one to sell her those drugs then kill her when she refused to pay up. Cartman drove to Whistlin' Willy's and went to the phone booth. Holding an old Taco Bell napkin to mask his fingerprints, he dialed a number.

"911 Operator, state your emergency."

"This is an anonymous tip. Kenneth McCormick of South Park has killed a girl and dumped her body." Cartman said in a rough voice.

"I'm sorry? Who's this? Where is the girl? Where are you calling from?" The operator asked with urgency in her voice.

Cartman slammed the phone down and got back in his car, trying to figure out how he'd get the bloodstains off the truck seat. His own phone buzzed. Butters again.

"Hey, Eric! Sorry for bothering you, but-"

"Butters! Thank god you called! Dude, I am _freaking out_. Listen, there's been this accident, right? And Bebe got really hurt and now I need to make sure nobody thinks it was me." Cartman was certain Butters wouldn't tell anyone. He was too innocent.

"Accident?" Butters voice was strangled.

"Yeah, but don't worry. I called the cops and told them it was Kenny."

"Kenny!" Butters demanded.

"Yeah. The cops'll probably arrest him and I'm definitely gonna get away with it." Cartman laughed a little harsh sound.

Without thinking, Butters cut the line and ran out of his house. He knew where Kenny lived; everyone knew where he lived. He just had to find him and hope he made it in time. The running was all a blur; Butters was hardly aware when he was standing outside the small, rundown McCormick shack, knocking on the bell-less door and completely out of breath.

Inside the house, Kenny started at the sound of the bell. Nobody had any business being at his house at this time of night. He didn't deal anywhere near his house and he damn sure didn't let anyone dangerous near here. He surreptitiously felt under the couch cover and closed his fingers around the gun he'd had since middle school.

"Finish your veggies, Karen, you won't get dessert without them." Kenny instructed his little sister who was watching TV and generally ignoring her microwaved dinner plate.

"Okay, Kenny." She said, gazing up at him with adoration in her eyes.

Kenny smiled reassuringly and patted her cheek as he carefully went to the front door. "Who is it?" He asked, wishing not for the first time the door had a peephole, even a ghetto homemade one. Since his parents had both disappeared for good, Kevin had become man of the house, and that wasn't comforting to Kenny in the least. Kevin was in and out of the house all the time.

"Its… Butters." Butters called from the other side of the door, still catching his breath.

"Butters?" Kenny was confused as he pulled the door open, gun still clutched in a hand under his orange parka. It was indeed the little blonde boy on his front porch, doubled over and looking terrified. "What're you doing here? What's going on?"

"Kenny, listen to me. You need to leave."

Kenny snorted. "Are you insane?"

"I'm serious. Eric… Eric did something to Bebe and he's really scared about it and he called the cops and told them it was you and I'm really worried for you and I hate Eric Cartman!" Butters blurted all in one long sentence.

Kenny's expression instantly changed. He understood as soon as Butters told him. He marched back inside, went straight up to his room, and grabbed the duffel bag he kept for emergencies. Even if he was proven innocent in whatever Cartman was blaming him for, there was still the case of the marijuana plants growing in the backyard, of unlicensed weapon possession, of living alone without being 18 yet.

Coming back down the stairs, he saw Butters showing Karen a stupid little magic trick with his hands. She was laughing hysterically and wiping a little tear from her eyes. Kenny's heart sank. What was he going to do with his sister? He couldn't take her on the run with him; he couldn't leave her alone with Kevin. Maybe she was better off in foster care.

Kenny hugged Karen fiercely and said, "You be good, little sis. I'm going on a small break, okay? I love you." Karen cocked her head to the side, wondering what was going on. "Butters, can I talk to you?" Kenny asked quietly.

Butters shot to his feet and followed Kenny out of the house, Karen's bewildered eyes on both of them. "Look, I'm sorry! I didn't want you to get in trouble, when Eric told me, I was really upset!" Butters babbled incessantly.

"Butters!" Kenny said sharply, shutting the boy up. "You need to promise me something; take care of Karen. _Don't_ let Kevin take care of her. She's only in 7th grade, man. You have to take care of her. I'll send you money if you need it."

Butters looked ready to protest, but then he paused. He knew it was his fault on some level for letting it slip to Cartman. His guilt would drive him crazy. "Okay," he agreed, "I'll convince my parents; I'll keep her in my room."

"And if she gets hurt, I'm coming for you, Butters." Kenny threatened in a quieter voice, which somehow made it seem all the more scary.

In the distance, both boys heard the sound of a siren. Kenny felt for the gun, adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and said gruffly, "Go on and get her out of here. Don't let the cops catch her in this house. Tell them you haven't seen me in a while and Karen's been staying with you until I came back." Kenny turned to leave, then stopped. "Butters? Thanks." Kenny hesitated and finally kissed Butters on the cheek.

Then he was sprinting down the broken street under the flickering streetlamps and Butters was scrambling inside to get Karen gone before the police came.

**_A/N: I hope you all liked it! Please review and let me know how I'm doing so far!_**


	7. 11th Grade

Kyle: _**It's done.**_

Stan: _**Completely?**_

Kyle: _**I just got through signing the papers. I convinced my dad to sign as my legal guardian for one more year until I'm 18. Can you believe how cool he was about this whole coming-out thing?**_

Stan: _**I can't believe you left your phone there for your dad to see my nudes! What if your mom had seen it?**_

Kyle: _**It doesn't matter; we're telling her tonight anyway and I'm already moved in. It's finally happening, Stan! **_

Stan: _**Yeah, I'm letting my family know tonight, too. I'm all packed!**_

Kyle: _**When are you going to be here? I'll make sure you feel very welcome.**_

Stan: _**Suggestive, huh? I'm getting the Greyhound tomorrow. I should be there the day after. **_

Kyle:_**I can't wait!**_

Stan: _**I love you!**_

Like always, this is where the conversation took a slight pause. Before Stan could get a response, he heard the nasally voice of his 11th grade homeroom teacher demanding, "Mr. Marsh, are you on your phone again? I said put it away or you get detention!"

Stan did so as the teacher asked and picked up his book, pretending to read _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ by Oscar Wilde. He couldn't contain his smile behind the cover or the excitement in his heart. It was all set into motion so perfectly. Just one more class period to get through.

Kyle had his own apartment, both boys would be publicly coming out tonight to their families, and Stan was taking the bus to live with his boyfriend. Not that Kyle would admit to making it official or anything yet. He was still hesitant about using the word "love" or "boyfriend". He kept dodging the subject, saying they'd see when the moment arrived.

The bell rang shrill and the room filled with the sound of kids gathering their stuff and walking out. As Stan slowly and dreamily put the book back in his backpack, Butters approached him from behind. "Hey, Stanley! Sorry the teacher hollered at you today. What're you up to? That's an awful wide smile you got."

"Yeah, Butters. I'm leaving for New York tomorrow."

"New York! Why are you going to such a faraway place?" Butters childlike shock and enthusiasm, like always, made Stan want to hug the little boy and tell him it was okay. He knew since Kenny had vanished out of everyone's life, his little sister was staying at the Stotch household; how Kenny had convinced Butters to do this was one matter, how Butters convinced his parents was an even more pressing matter.

But now, the important question! Proudly, Stan pulled out his phone and scrolled to his pictures. "Look, dude!" He said, shoving the phone in Butters face, "It's our own place, me and Kyle! It's a nice little rental 2-room out by Brooklyn. 1221 Evergreen Terrace! I even got the address memorized." He wanted to show off this fact that he was going away from this suffocating redneck town to be with Kyle.

Butters was indeed impressed. He was nodding as he thoughtfully looked on at the pictures. He handed Stan the phone back and Stan headed off toward the high school exit. "Well, good luck for the both of you, best of friends forever!" Butters called his congratulations.

"Yeah, thanks Butters!" Stan flashed him a thumbs up as he jogged outside in the crisp cold. Hopefully soon, more than just best of friends. Maybe something much more.

Stan was in a good mood all the way home. He was trying to focus on all the amazing things waiting for him on the other end of the bus ride instead of all the terrible things that had recently been happening in South Park. Terrible things like his last best friend remaining had disappeared very suddenly, skipping out on Karen. Things like Bebe's dead body being found in a ditch. Like Cartman turning into an even bigger and more tense asshole. Like Butters becoming even more introverted, to the point where the only people he associated with anymore was Stan and Karen.

As soon as he got home to his room, he took a deep breath and practiced under his breath what he wanted to say. This was the perfect time to do it. Shelly, attending community college, was at home today. His mom was already back from work and his dad had yet to leave. His grandpa was always in front of the TV.

Going back down the steps, he yelled, "Mom! Dad! Can we have a family meeting?" It was a slightly ridiculous notion; no one in this family used the term "meeting" or even got too civil with each other.

Sharon and Randy were in the kitchen, discussing the office place politics and cooking dinner together. Since a few years ago when the two nearly got divorced, they had decided they would always do some work together, whether it was clean up, working out, or cooking. They both exchanged a look and shrugged.

"Shelly, get in the dining room!" Sharon demanded to her daughter.

"Mom, I'm working on an essay! Do I really need to listen to the little turd talk about some stupid little pet peeve of his?" Her voice returned.

"Don't call your little brother that, Shelly! You get in the dining room _now,_ young lady!"

And so the entire Marsh family was gathered around the dining table, Randy and Sharon next to each other, Shelly typing away on her laptop, Stan's grandpa looking grumpy and tired. Stan was seated at the head seat.

"I have an announcement, but before I say it, I just wanted to let you guys know that I would really appreciate all of your support." Stan took a deep breath. "I'm moving out. I'm going to New York to live with-"

"Moving out?" Randy interrupted. "You're moving out? Jesus, Stan, do you know what you're saying?" His voice rose a few octaves.

"Yeah, dad, but that's actually not all." Stan started again but once again Randy missed the hint and spoke up.

"You can't just leave! And go all the way to New York!" He stood in his seat, the dining chair going flying back, "I can't let my son go to New York when he hasn't even graduated yet!"

"Randy, let him finish." Sharon said, tugging on his hand. Even Shelly was looking up with complete interest, essay forgotten.

Randy was not to be calmed. "I'm not going to let my son just _leave, _Sharon! And that to New York! Would we let Shelly leave?"

"But dad, there's more! I'm living with-"

"I don't care who you're living with young man, YOU'RE NOT GOING!" Randy screamed, his face turning red. He stopped abruptly; his right hand went to clutch the left side of his chest. Randy toppled back onto the chair.

"Dad? D-D-AD!" Stan stuttered and rushed forward to grab Randy before he fell to the floor, grunting with the sudden effort.

Sharon flew forward, "Randy, what's wrong? Randy? Shelly, call the ambulance!"

Shelly was already up out of her chair, cell phone in one hand, the other outstretched to her fainted father.

* * *

><p>The streetlamps cast a sickly yellow pall over the streets. Kenny was hobbling down them, limping and dragging one of his feet behind him. Blood flowed from a gash on his foot, covered up by his old ripped up pair of black jeans. The torn and dirty orange parka was hardly any help toward the cold. Kenny could see his breath as he looked up to squint at the street name.<p>

He headed down it and had to stop when the world started spinning and turning black around him. When the fuzziness faded and Kenny had some of his vision again, he panted and leapt forward, knocking over a trashcan. As the loud metal screeched to the concrete, a dog yelped in the distance.

He glanced up the road of tawdry, small houses, studying the numbers before finally finding the right one. There was a small bell that echoed through Kenny's head when his finger weakly pressed the buzzer.

"Coming!" A voice called on the other end, then the door opened. Kenny nearly didn't recognize him and stared forward with a blank look, wondering if he'd accidentally come to the wrong house.

Kyle's wild red locks were gone, shorn down into a short little faux-hawk that hardly reached his ears. There were a pair of black-rimmed glasses on his face; his freckles had nearly completely blended into that creamy pale skin instead of standing out as they used to, save for the goatee on his face. The usual overconfident humor on the Jew's face was gone, replaced by surprise and a bit of fear.

"I'm sorry, may I help you…? Oh my god, Kenny?" Kyle's face lit up as he recognized the blonde. Confused, he said, "What are you doing here?"

"I needed a place." Kenny panted.

"Of course, man. Well, come inside!" Kyle took his armsleeve to pull him out of the cold. Kenny stumbled over the doorstep and let Kyle guide him into the warmth of the little house. "Here, sit on the couch. You don't look good, Kenny. I'll just get something for you to drink; it's freezing out there."

"Kyle… wait." Kenny said, collapsing on the sofa. His voice was so faint that Kyle couldn't make it out and was already gone into the little kitchen. Kenny wearily glanced around the place; it was shabby with mismatched furniture, but no one could deny that it was cozy. The last thing Kenny could make out was a bucket with lukewarm champagne on the side table before his eyes closed automatically.

Returning a moment later with a mug of steaming cappuccino, Kyle realized Kenny wasn't moving. Had he fallen asleep or passed out? He put down the mug and noticed Kenny's ankle. His eyes widened as he realized blood was seeping slowly out of the wound.

"Jesus, Kenny!" Kyle cried, leaning forward instantly and peeling of the grimy jeans to better see. Kenny stirred but otherwise didn't react. Kyle studied the blonde before him, now noticing dark bags under his eyes, the dirt caked on his face, the absolutely filthy orange coat, his hollow cheekbones and shallow breathing.

Kyle wasn't a workout fiend, but he did still get some exercise in. Hoping that was enough to handle the weight, he picked up Kenny and was surprised to find the boy was even lighter than he had imagined. His head lolled weakly around like an infant but the boys eyes still didn't open.

Perhaps he finally knew he was in safe company. It was either that, or his body had completely given up.

As Kyle marveled at his weight, there was a clatter as something fell from Kenny to the floor, falling under the sofa. The Jew shrugged it off momentarily and carried Kenny into the bathroom, which still reeked of fresh paint and bleach from Kyle scrubbing and refurnishing it that morning. He set Kenny down against the tiles, balancing him carefully, and turned on warm water in the tub.

He returned his attention back to Kenny. First, that parka needed to go. It needed to be washed and sewed, if not burned and trashed. Kyle pulled it over his head and saw he wore no shirt underneath. Kyle had to hold back a gasp when he saw the malnourished Kenny's body, ribs and sternum sticking out of his pale skin. He unbuttoned Kenny's jeans and slid them down as well, amazed that he was still even alive with such little flesh on his body.

Taking the naked boy back into his arms, Kyle went to the edge of the tub and lowered Kenny in. For a moment, he expected the light blonde to float. But Kenny sank gracefully down into the warmth. Kyle took one of the soft sponges he had and ran it over Kenny's body, watching the dirt soften and melt, leaving the water swirling with muddy bits and gray matter. Kyle drained the muck and refilled fresh warm water twice.

Kenny muttered suddenly, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me?" He restlessly splashed in the water, causing some to slosh over the sides. Not sure how to calm him, the redhead took his hand and Kenny gripped it with surprising subconscious strength.

When Kenny was clean, Kyle wiped him down with the only other clean towel he had, the one he had saved for Stan, and dressed him in a pair of his long warm fleece PJs. Kyle carried him into his bedroom and buried him under the covers of the full bed; the rose petals he had spread over the comforters to welcome Stan fell to the floor.

Trying to keep as busy as he could to avoid thinking of the fact that last night Stan's dad had a heart attack, he made chicken soup for Kenny and fed it to the boy who hardly seemed aware of anything.

His dreams were frightening. He saw Karen, crying, clutching to her doll, and asking where her guardian angel was. Then Craig showed up and assured the little girl he would protect her but then he turned into Cartman and started strangling her, until Butters came and asked him to stop.

In the dream, Cartman demanded to know why he should spare Karen McCormick, and Butters promptly pointed to Kenny and said, "Get him instead."

Kenny awoke with a start. He had woken up in strange places before, girls' beds whose names he didn't remember, alleys behind bars, shelters and community centers, benches at parks and bus stations. This was nicer than any of those. He was warm, felt clean, not hungry, and comfortable.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a decent room. The doorway, directly in front of him, showed him Kyle asleep on the couch. Kenny remembered now, he remembered calling Butters from a payphone in Chicago and learning Kyle's address. He remembered hitch hiking most of the way, starving and on the run from a couple of thugs.

After that, everything was a blur.

Kenny blinked several times before slowly sliding out of the warm bed, flinching as the cold air hit his skin, and wrapping the top comforter around himself. He noticed the bandage on his foot from where a shard of beer glass had cut him. As he made his way to the living room of the little house, Kyle (always a light sleeper) looked up.

"Kenny! You're awake!" Kyle said, sitting up, his voice rough and heavy with sleep.

"How long have I been here?" Kenny asked, his own voice gruff with disuse. He sat down beside Kyle on the couch.

"You've been passed out for two days, man. Where the heck did you come from? How did you find me?" Kyle asked. "I mean, I'm incredibly glad you're here, Stan told me you've been missing since last year, but you have to understand how unexpected it is to have you turn up out of the blue."

"It's a long story." Kenny said, looking down. "I should probably leave, wouldn't want to impose and all that. I know Stan's supposed to show up soon."

"Oh- what? No, Kenny. He's not coming." Now it was Kyle's turn to turn red and avoid meeting eyes. "Besides which, you could never impose. You're one of our best friends."

Kenny rubbed his stubble with a hand. "Why isn't he coming?"

"His dad... I guess he had a heart attack or something."

"That's awfully convenient." Kenny replied. "Mr. Marsh always seemed pretty healthy to me."

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean? Mr. Marsh _had_ a heart attack because Stan said he was leaving."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Kyle." Kenny suddenly stood from the sofa. "See what I mean? I'm a cynical menace everywhere I go, everyone I talk to. I should just fucking go. Now."

Kyle wondered what had happened to turn his charismatic, cheeky friend into the defensive rough guy that had knocked on his door. "You're not going anywhere, Kenny. You're gonna stay right here with me, okay?"

"I don't think-"

"Shut the fuck up, Kenneth. This house wasn't brought exclusively for me. It was for my friends and me, and that includes you. Besides, you're not in any condition to go anywhere. You showed up on my porch, bleeding like a bitch and starving, freezing your ass off in that stupid orange parka. You had a gun tucked in your jeans that fell under my couch that I'm _still_ too scared to touch and no one has heard from you in the last year. You're not going anywhere, fucktard, but back to bed."

Kenny was taken aback by Kyle's speech and couldn't help but smile. It was almost like old times, long righteous speeches and profanity included. "Well then I guess I'd better tell you the whole story, huh?"

"Damn right you better. But first, you need to tell me who you were apologizing to in your dream." Kyle said, leaning forward on the couch. And in that face, Kenny finally caught a glimpse of the childhood Kyle, concerned and eager, positive and charming.

Kenny sighed and sank farther back in the sofa. "I don't know, Kyle. There's so many people I owe apologies to: Karen, Butters, Craig, Ms. Cartman..."

"Cartman's mom?" Kyle asked, frowning.

"Well. Yeah."

"Okay, maybe you should just tell me the whole story."


	8. 12th Grade

Stan inhaled from the cigarette deeply, feeling the smoke condense into his lungs. He tried to zone out the loud, obnoxious pop music from the gym and the muted sounds of kids cheering and dancing. The night sky had sharp bright pinpoints of lights, shining like shards of ice. His ever present phone was silent; Kyle had refused to text him tonight.

"Hey, Stan." A thin, timid voice behind him said.

Stan turned. "Hey, Butters. What're you doing out here?"

"Aint I got a right?"

"Of course, Butters. But first of all, there's a party going on. Second, the party's _inside _the gym."

"Well, I came with Karen. She's gone to the ladies room. It's not so bad, actually. I'm graduating this year and she's in 9th grade, so it's her first time going to a school dance. I wanted her to see what it was like without the pressure of having to impress a date. But what're you doing here at Prom?" Butters asked, looking uncomfortable in his tuxedo and shined black shoes.

"Yeah, I know. It's all a big scandal, isn't it? Kid finally comes out, his dad has a heart attack and doesn't even know the whole truth, then stupid kid shows up to Prom to disgrace himself even more." Stan returned the cigarette to his lips, straightening his back in his dad's old sports coat.

He stood there in silence, letting Butters feel even more awkward and guilty. They hadn't talked in nearly a year. In all honesty, Stan hadn't talked to anyone but Kyle and Kenny since all his plans and dreams fell through.

"I'm sorry for asking, Stanley. I'll see you later." Butters finally mumbled after a sufficiently uneventful amount of time.

"Wait, Butters." Stanley sighed, "Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a bitch. I heard you pretty much saved Kenny's life by giving him Kyle's address. Thanks for that. He's still one of my best friends and we were all worried sick for him. You're a good guy."

"Oh, I don't think so. I just happened to mention to him where Kyle was living."

"Yeah, but you're taking care of his sister, aren't you?" Stan countered, leaving Butters quiet. Stan shrugged, dropping the nearly burnt out cig. "It's okay. I know a good guy when I see one, even if he doesn't think so."

"Thank you. I don't mean to bother you." Butters started to turn back.

"My dad wanted me to." Stan told Butters back.

The blonde turned, confused, warily watching Stan's hunched figure in his dad's old blazer and skinny pants.

"My dad," Stan explained, "he always wanted his son to go to senior prom; it was some big thing for him. I mean, we're always careful not to tell him I'm gay or anything in case his condition worsens, but we can't deny the fact that I don't have a girlfriend- or any friends at all for that matter. He wants to see me happy; he thought that would happen if I went to some shitty dance."

"Oh. I hope Mr. Marsh gets better soon, Stan. It can't be easy."

"It's not. And it's even worse when everyone I love keeps telling me not to be so bitter. You know what Kyle keeps saying? He just repeats some stupid shit about how people have to stick by their family. And my dad. I'm not sure if you know him well, but he's not past emotional blackmailing. He won't _let_ me leave, Butters." Stan looked up into Butter's blue eye, almost as if pleading the boy to understand his situation.

"I think I get what you're trying to say, Stan." Butters hedged carefully, not sure if Stan was heading in the general direction of a tearful meltdown or violent outburst.

Before either could happen, Karen swung open the gym doors. "There you are!" She said and froze at the sight of Stan. "Oh, I didn't know you had… uh, company."

"It's okay, Karen." Butters assured her.

"Stan!" Karen shrieked as she realized who the black haired kid was. She ran forward to tackle him. Even with her long silk olive green gown, she could run like a gazelle.

"Oof!" Stan grunted as the girl hugged him, her sleek brown hair in his face. "Okay, Karen, slow down." He laughed, feeling better already then when he'd been alone with Butters.

Since Kyle had left, Kenny had become Stan's go to guy and it was only common that he ended up hanging out with Karen a lot. He considered her like his own little sister and was now feeling ashamed he hadn't taken more of an effort to seek her out. Karen herself had been in a fix since Kenny had left. She was too shy to approach Stan and Stan had his own shit to deal with; the two hadn't ended up talking in a while. Stan was actually surprised she was being so close to him now.

She fixed her intense blue eyes on him, so similar to Kenny that it made Stan miss the blonde boy. As much as he _wanted_ to be Kenny, living with Kyle and sharing his life with the redhead, he was sorry he didn't have his mate to talk to. "Where they hell have you been lost?" She demanded. "I was just on the phone with Kenny yesterday night, talking about how I miss you."

Stan knew through Kyle that the siblings were back in touch, but keeping it secret due to certain implications. "Things are crazy, you know. I'm not the only lost though, clearly." Stan raised an eyebrow. "It's a two way street. You could've talked to me."

"I… didn't want to annoy you, you know? I cried myself to sleep for the entire first year Kenny was gone, and at least I knew you were somewhere out there. I didn't want to talk to you and ruin that possibility." Karen said.

"Dude, I'm not some kind of get-out-of-jail card. You don't just use me up once and I'm gone. I would've been there for you. And actually, kiddo, I'm sorry I wasn't for all that time." Stan was taken aback as the girl threw her arms around him again. For a skinny girl, she sure could squeeze.

"Wow, Karen, are you okay?" Butters asked, feeling wretchedly ignored and concerned.

"I'm completely fine!" She declared, whirling around to face him, a grin lighting up her face. Butters, having spent more time with her than anyone else he could remember (even Cartman), recognized her expression right away.

"Have you been drinking, Karen?" He demanded. He leaned close to her and sniffed, the metallic smell of alcohol instantly clear.

"That's rude!" Karen declared, jerking back.

"But you _have_ been drinking, Karen! How dare you?" Butters asked, looking outraged.

"Some girls were taking shots in the bathroom. So I indulged. Jeez, Butters, calm your tits." Karen shrugged casually.

Stan took a step back, unsure if he should interfere. Watching the two do their awkward little dance reminded Stan of the conflicts that used to happen in his house between his dad and Shelly. Not anymore, of course, now everyone was as careful as possible to avoid upsetting Randy.

"Calm? You expect me to be calm?" Butters sputtered, his face turning red. "I've told you I want you to stay away from drugs."

"It was just a little! Don't you trust me enough?" She yelled back.

"You swore to Kenny you would stay away! Oh, hell, _I_ swore to your brother I would keep you away from drugs!"

"Well, you're not my fucking brother! So fuck off!"

Stan's eyes opened wide as he realized little Karen McCormick had grown up. She didn't clutch her dolly anymore and ask for stories of her guardian angel. She didn't laugh at stupid jokes and do her hair with the juvenile bangs anymore.

"Stop it, the both of you." Stan surprised himself by stepping between the fighting pair. He looked at Karen first. "No, Karen. Butters _isn't_ your brother. Matter of fact, I don't think anyone in the world is more opposite of Kenny then Butters is. But he's been taking care of you and worrying his ass off making sure you're raised the right way, so just try and respect him a bit, seriously."

Stan turned to Butters then, "And do you even know who you're dealing with? This is the sister of Kenneth Fucking McCormick. Nobody can tell this family how to do their thing. And if you've been doing it so far, good for you man. But you can't keep her locked up and try to control her. Let her try her own stuff out. If you've taught her the limit, you've done your best. But if you try to keep her from it, she'll just be more attracted to it."

Stan took a deep breath, feeling proud of himself.

"Just like you're attracted to faggots?" Cartman asked.

All three looked back at the gym doors where Cartman was standing. His heavy frame leaned on the doorsill and his eyes had a mean glint in them. Cartman looked like he'd had a few drinks himself, but more than he could probably handle.

"Eric? What're you doing here?" Butters asked. Stan's fingers curled into fists and he instinctively stepped in front of Karen; she in turn defensively took a step to the side, leaving herself open again.

"What does everyone do in a shithole like South Park? Look for the place they can get a bit wild and pick up a few chicks." Cartman sniggered. "Well, well, well. Looks like you guys got yourself a regular little gangbang out here, huh?"

"Watch it, Cartman." Stan warned.

"Or what?" He narrowed his eyes as he finally recognized Karen. "Hey, you're that poor bastard's sister."

"Don't you dare talk about my family that way," Karen spoke in a firm voice. She knew whatever reason her brother had run away from home involved Cartman; she didn't know exactly what the situation was, but already Karen nursed a grudge against him.

"Or what? You're gonna sell yourself to pay me to keep my mouth shut?"

Then Karen was running before anyone realized and curled her fist, aiming straight for Cartman's face. Contact was forceful and immediately blood spurted from his nose.

He doubled over, his considerable bulk shadowing the ground. "Ow, what the fuck! You psycho bitch!" He clutched at his face.

"You _asshole_! Why don't you just _fuck off and DIE!_" Karen screamed, bringing her foot up squarely between Cartman's legs. As he fell over, she continued to kick with her long heels.

"KAREN!" Stan bounded forward and tried to restrain her. For a skinny girl, she had a lot of angry strength, her legs still kicking as she struggled to get free. He held on persistently, and Butters took hold of her flailing arms.

They both managed to get her calm enough to stand still, breathing heavy and staring down at the writhing brunette. She hawked and spit on Cartman, then turned and smoothed down her hair.

"Butters, I'm sorry. Can we go home?" She asked, a hurricane subsiding into a drizzle.

Stan stared in awe as Butters put a hand on her shoulder and guided her back into the gym. He enjoyed the vision of a drunk beaten Cartman for another moment before plunging in after the couple. Stan caught up with them just as they headed out the front entrance.

"Wait, guys! That was brilliant. You totally gave fatass back there hell!" He high-fived Karen, who looked pleased with herself. "Can I get a ride back? I mean, Shelly has strict instructions not to pick me up until midnight and it's only, like, 9 right now."

"Of-of course, Stanley. C'mon with us, we'll probably get something to eat beforehand." Butters said. As he turned on the ignition, a _Vampire Weekend _CD began blaring.

Butters had a plain little Corolla, but even with that Stan couldn't help but feel a smidge jealous. All the Marsh money was going into the medical expenses for his dad. He wouldn't have a car for a long while, at least not until he got a job. It's not that he hadn't tried; nobody would hire him. The economy was shit and he had no connections or friends. His mom worked extra hours as a reception, and his dad's geology insurance was helping out a bit. Despite that, the family struggled to reach their bills.

Stan understood finally the helplessness Kenny must've felt being poor.

But now Karen seemed to be doing well. She seemed perfectly comfortable as she reached forward to turn on the heat, turn down the volume on the radio, and snapped on her seatbealt. She'd done this before; she finally knew some form of luxury.

Kenny would be so happy.

Almost as if she read Stan's mind, Karen mumbled, "Kenny asked me to call him afterwards. I'll just be a minute."

Kenny jerked awake when he felt his phone buzzing in his jacket pocket. He had unintentionally fallen asleep while trying to study. Persistent techno still emitted from his headphones; one had fallen off and lay on the open notebook. "Fuck." He groaned and shook himself to be alert. His math final was next week and he'd sworn to Kyle he'd try to do well.

Kenny reached for his phone. He grinned when he saw it was Karen. "Hey! How's my angel?"

"Kenny, don't be cheesy," Karen complained but she was smiling. "I'm awesome. We just left Prom; it sucked ass."

"Language, Karen." He scolded.

"Shut up. Listen- we ran into Stan!"

"Literally." Stan muttered from the backseat.

"Stan? Well, tell him I said hi." Kyle Skype'd with Stan nearly every night; Kenny had talked to him plenty. He remembered back when they all had hung out together and been so happy worrying about little things, like whether McDonalds was still serving breakfast or Mr. Garrison was going to give a quiz. Of course back then Cartman hadn't been a murderer.

"Stan, Kenny says hi! Anyway, I'll call you later, okay?" Karen bubbled happily.

"Yeah, cool. Stay safe." Kenny cut the line and focused his attention on Kyle's old iPod, gratuitously given to him. Kenny's life was turning into techno; repetitive and tiring. He paused _The Chemical Brothers_ and stared at the jumble of algebra before him.

Living with Kyle came with consequences apparently. Kenny had to give his honor as a man and friend that he would get a job and stay away from hard drugs, plentiful alcohol, and sex until they had both graduated. The result was a life Kenny had never known, full of light beer and time slotted Pizza Hut work schedules and masturbation. He could almost feel all his charismatic flirting and hard earned sex skills melting off every time he jerked off to porn.

Thinking of his past life was bittersweet. He couldn't stand being so straight-edge, yet he had to admit, he was doing better than ever. He was going to graduate, get a diploma. He had a decent bank account set up and Kyle only asked for a little when he was low on rent. The Jew had his pride: he refused to ask his parents for money.

Now Kenny sighed, deciding a long shower with some definite wanking was in order. Kyle was still out working at the bookstore, Kenny figured he had time. He went to the bathroom and turned on the warm water, staring thoughtfully at the tub where Kyle had washed him that first day. So much had changed since then. Kyle was still same old Kyle but something about him seemed off.

It was that instead of Stan, Kenny had showed up on his doorstep.

Filling the tub with warm water, Kenny slid in and submerged completely, listening to his pulse in his ears. He wondered if Kyle found him attractive. In the past, he hadn't much considered Kyle an option, mostly because he was so far away and Stan had that thing going on with him. But now that he was living with the redhead, maybe he could give him some temporary relief.

He was still in the tub in the cooling water, his long legs uncomfortable and cramped when the front door opened. Kenny didn't notice, so lost in his own thoughts until Kyle burst into the bathroom and lifted the toilet seat, unzipping his pants before realizing Kenny was there.

"Aw, dude! I gotta go!"

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Go."

"Okay, at least close your eyes," Kyle squirmed.

"Nope," Kenny raised an eyebrow, now curious as well as sassy. Despite living together, he still hadn't checked out Kyle's package yet.

"Dude, c'mon! I'll do anything!" Kyle begged jumping foot to foot.

"Anything? Fine, but you owe me one, okay?" Kenny grinned, took a deep breath, and rolled down into the water. A minute later, he emerged spluttering and wheezing. Kyle was just zipping up.

"Did you fucking count that? Pretty sure I just broke all sorts of world records for holding your breath underwater." Kenny declared. He shook his blonde hair so droplets of water flew everywhere and stood up to reach for his towel.

"Hey, how about a warning next time?" Kyle turned around quickly, avoiding looking at Kenny's naked form. He washed his hands and was turning the knob to leave when he felt a warm hand on his neck.

"Why would I warn you? I'm not embarrassed of anything." Kenny whispered softly in his ear, warm breath tingling and raising goosebumps on the back of Kyle's neck.

Kyle froze with his arm outstretched. "I don't- what are you- Kenny?" Kyle stuttered.

"Shh. It's okay if you don't want to talk." Kenny continued to stroke his neck with one hand while the other unzipped his jacket and maneuvered Kyle's hands out of the sleeves. Kyle let himself be handled by the taller boy, not sure what was going on or what his cue to react was. With the jacket on the floor, the cold air hit Kyle and he suppressed a shiver.

In a single move, Kenny turned him around and looked into his eyes. "Kyle, I know you're with Stan in this long-distance whatever it is that you guys do, but it isn't cheating if _I'm_ doing the work, is it?" He asked, his blue eyes shining and filled with desire, nothing but a towel draped around his waist.

Kyle blinked. That seemed to be enough indication for Kenny, who leaned forward and kissed him. Kyle's lips were frozen, but Kenny's tongue probed at his mouth until they parted. Kenny tilted his head for better access, running his hands down the plaid fabric of his shirt. His hands were warm, still moist from the bath, and they felt amazing massaging his body.

Still refusing to respond to the kiss, Kyle closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him. He could still remember the last kiss he'd had with Stan in his room the night before he moved to New York. This one was better; Kenny wasn't a child; he knew exactly what to do and how to move his mouth. But he couldn't get the image of Stan out of his mind, his dark hair falling over his eyes, the way he pinched the bridge of his nose when he was tense.

Kyle reached out and stilled Kenny's wandering fingers, already at the hem of his pants. He pushed Kenny back by the shoulders. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"What?" Kenny asked breathlessly, pulling away his lips from the redhead.

"I don't think I can do this, Kenny. It isn't that I don't like you or anything, I've always considered you one of my best ever friends, but… I want to wait for Stan. I think I love him, you know? I want him to be the one." Kyle admitted. He thought Kenny would be angry or depressed at being rejected.

Instead, he looked a bit disappointed. "It was a worth a try anyway. When we graduate, Kyle, I'm going to the biggest drunkest orgy you can imagine."

Kyle forced a laugh, but as Kenny turned to finish drying himself, he couldn't deny he was turned on. He thought about Kenny's lips on his own and had the sudden urge to grab him and kiss him again. Kyle frowned.

What the fuck was happening to him?


End file.
